An Avonlea Scandal
by dollystuddedudders
Summary: Avonlea is turned upside down when a handsome stranger brings news from the grave on Anne's Wedding Day. A group fanfic from The Avonlea Message Board.
1. News from the Grave

DISCLAIMER: We're not LMM, but we love Anne to pieces, really, we do.

ANNE WAKENED on the morning of her wedding day to find the sunshine winking in at the window of the little porch gable and a September breeze frolicking with her curtains. She had had a weird dream that she couldn't quite remember. In it, she had been getting married to someone... someone she had dreamed about for a long time. Then she blinked. Of course, she was getting married to Gilbert Blythe, today! This wasn't a dream.

Anne threw off the covers and ran down to the kitchen. Marilla, who had cooking since five o'clock that morning, looked up mildly when Anne's flaming hair streamed before her eyes.

"Oh, Marilla," gushed Anne, unable to contain her excitement, "I still can't believe it. I'm getting married, I'm getting married to the most wonderful man in the world!"

Marilla continued to stir the pot of porridge pensively, thinking how different life would have been had she got married and had children of her own. Would she have stayed in Avonlea? What would have happened to Anne then?

"...Marilla?" asked Anne hesitantly. Marilla, who had been staring into space with a dotty expression on her face, jumped guilty and stirred the pot with unusual vigour.

"Yes, yes, completely natural," replied Marilla, without a clue as to what she'd just agreed to.

"Well, if you're sure," said Anne as she walked out the door, "I should only be a little while.'

Anne was perched on the trunk of fallen tree, her hair was blowing gently in the breeze and her eyes shone with dreamy remembrance as she looked out upon the Lake of Shining Waters. She was therefore surprised when she saw Diana walking hastily walking towards her and flapping her arms about like a chicken.

"Why, Diana!" Anne called out in delight, 'Whatever are you doing out and about this early? And what is that in your hand?"

Diana silently handed an envelope to Anne, it looked old and the writing on the front was smudged as if it had been written in a hurry.

"Diana, what's wrong...why are you--?" asked Anne and then stopped.

_Mr. Mathew Cuthbert of Green Gables_  
_Avonlea, Prince Edward Island._

Anne quickly flipped the envelope over to see who it was from, it was blank. Surely everyone knew that Mathew had been dead for years now? Who would do such a thing?

"Come Diana," said Anne, her voice tight with emotion, "we must show Marilla."

The girls quietly walked into the kitchen, Marilla who was sitting at the table sorting out a box of ribbon looked up when she heard them enter, before she could speak Anne held out the envelope for Marilla to read.

"It's a letter to Mathew," said Anne.

"Read it out loud, please Anne," said Marilla quietly.

It was dated three months previous and read:

_Dear Mr. Cuthbert,_

_This very day not two hours past, my dear mother Lady Catherine Dronsburry Elot died of a fever. I mention this to you, as it is my belief that my mother was acquainted with you some time ago. Nine months before I was born to be precise._

_What I am saying Mr. Cuthbert, is that I believe you are my father._

_In the next two hours a boat is leaving England directly for Canada, and I plan to be on it. We have a lifetime of catching up to do and I will be arriving at Green Gables in exactly three months. I hope you will understand my haste._

_Sincerely, L. Elot._

"So it's true!" gasped Marilla, scandalized.

"You knew Mathew had a son?" cried Anne.

"Oh my," said Diana, "someone is knocking at the door!"

"Hello?" called out a voice, with a decidedly English accent, "is anyone home?"

-----------------------------------

Chapter by rhoswen. Part of a "round robin" at in 2006. The first line comes directly from Anne's House of Dreams and the first few lines are added by Bets.


	2. The Handsomest Species of Mankind

In stepped the handsomest species of mankind Anne had ever dreamed of. Tall, dark, melancholy with midnight blue eyes full of imagination. He opened his mouth, and said in a melting voice, "Hello. My name is Lance."

Anne wheeled back, stunned. "My dream, Diana, did I tell you about my dream?" she gasped.

The memory of it flooded her. Only that morning, she had dreamed that she was in misty Camelot, where a blue castle loomed on the hill. She was in a white dress with flowers in her hair, which was not red but a living gold. A young man with dark eyes and a brooding smile was waiting down the aisle for her, and when he took her hands in his, she heard herself reciting "I, Elaine of Astolat, take thee, Sir Lancelot, to be my lawful wedded husband..."

"What did you dream about, Anne?" Diana interrupted.

"Why, that I was Elaine and was going to marry Lancelot." Anne murmured dreamily.

"How divinely lovely!" Diana squealed. "Isn't it every girl's dream to have Sir Lancelot walk into your front door to propose to you?"

"Lance Elot." the young British man corrected her. "I hail from Tintagel, lying on the Western Sea, in the realm of what was - in yesteryear - the kingdom of Cornwall."

This was pronounced in an incredibly melting voice.

"Tin/tag-el!" Anne repeated, rapturous at such a romantic name. Diana merely simpered.

"And you must be the Cuthbert family." Lance Elot continued. "What might your names be?"

He looked at the three female faces admiring him unabashedly. Anne and Diana and even Marilla had forgotten their manners. But behind them, a male face was scowling at his intrusion on their happy household.

"I'm Davy." the scowling boy declared, evidently disgusted at Anne and Marilla's complete disregard of him as the man of the house. "And that's Marilla, who adopted me and Anne -- " Anne's face fell. She had planned to introduce herself as something more than plain boring Anne. "and that's her friend Diana. And my sister ---"

Davy scanned the room for Dora, who walked up primly from behind the antimacassar. Her hair shone like gold in the dark parlour, and she had put on something extraordinarily white and shimmery, and draped something lacy over her head. The dress transformed meek little Dora into a dazzlingly beautiful creature, and moreover, looked oddly familiar to Anne.

"so this is my sister, and her name is..."

"Elaine." Dora put out her hand.

"I have dreamed all my life of meeting you, oh sweet, fair maiden, my Elaine" Lance murmured dreamily as he stared into the depths of Dora's eyes.

"And I am honoured to be your... " Dora whispered with un-Dora-like passion.

But behind her, a voice was more passionate. "You THIEF!" Anne's notorious temper flared up at Dora. "You stole my FAVOURITE NAME and my WEDDING DRESS!"


	3. Gilbert's Rival

"Anne Shirley!" Marilla was horrified and grateful to find someone to scold. "Is that any way to speak to Dora?"

Anne cast an angry glance at the group and stormed out the back door. Tearing down the lane with tears stinging her eyes, she ran head first into a young man's chest. He caught her in his strong arms.

"Hello, Carrots," said Dr. Gilbert Blythe tenderly. He planted a kiss warmly on her forehead.

Anne choked back a sob and tried to struggle free. She glanced uneasily at the window, where Marilla and Lance were still standing. She couldn't see very clearly because her tears blinded her eyes, but Gilbert, following her gaze uneasily, could see that a strange man stood by the kitchen window. Gilbert made a mental note that moreover, this man was very handsome. His voice was suddenly stern:

"Anne Shirley, who is that man in your kitchen?"

His tone made even Anne uneasy.

"Umm....I can't really explain, because I've only just met him. How about we go for a walk Gil, you know calm our nerves before the wedding," she faltered.

"You're not getting off that easy, Anne. Let me meet this mystery man."

He lead the reluctant Anne into the kitchen.

"How do you do, Mr. Elot?" Gilbert asked politely, he was never one to assume familiarity with a stranger. "I'm Gilbert Blythe, Anne's fiancé."

"Oh, I say!" said Lance, his midnight blue eyes which had previously been filled with imagination but now not so much, flashing with surprise. "Anne's engaged? Well isn't she a naughty little thing, she never mentioned a thing about it..." he looked at Anne with his eyes, Oh those eyes! Though Marilla would never have said it out loud, she was certain those eyes had a seductive power strong enough to stun an adult moose at fifty paces. With those eyes staring directly into her own, for the first time in her life Anne found herself completely speechless.

Gilbert glanced inquiringly from Anne to Marilla. However, Marilla was not ready to to divulge Mathews' indiscretion. She smiled weakly at Gilbert, took one look at Anne's furious expression, and decided to tackle the more tangible problem. This time, she settled on Dora.

"Dora, go upstairs and remove that dress immediately!."

Gilbert now turned to look at Dora and a dazed expression crossed his face. "Why Dora you look all grown up and really pretty."

Dora simpered, lowered her eyes, and batted her lashes at both Gilbert and Lance. As they were standing at opposite ends of the room, Dora looked decidedly cross eyed like the dazed cat at her feet. Anne and Diana felt suprizingly more cheerful.

" I don't see why I should!" announced the defiant Dora.

"Because that's my wedding dress, AND you stole my favorite name" repeated Anne loudly, who hadn't gotten over the double offense.

"Well i just borrowed it, don't you think it suits me better? After all, I have golden hair and am also much younger than you." countered Dora.

Marilla sat down on the kitchen chair and cradled her head with her hands. Her world seemed all topsy turvey. The result of Matthew's not so youthful fling had come to roost, the gentle docile Dora was acting like a bad flirt, and worse of all, she couldn't get her mind off a certain secret of her own.

----

Chapter by meganloops, l. m. montgomery rocks, rusty, and rhoswen. Edited by Bets.

A/N: Helloooooo! Those of you who have added this fat old cow to your author alert, why yes, that's immensely flattering. But surely it can't be _too_ hard to click the button that says REVIEW THIS CHAPTER too? Please do pamper my vanity. :)


	4. Bosom Friends and Catfights

Anne pounced on Dora like a wild cat. There was a loud crash that only intensified Marilla's headache, but she was not the only one with an aching head.

Dora staggered, one hand nursing her bruised head, the other clutching her stomach. "You've killed me..." she whispered, her face pinched rather unattractively with pain, "but you're not rid of me that easily...gasp...I'll be there, waiting outside your window...wheeze...watching you in your sleep...just you wait, Anne Shirley!" and with that Dora collapsed dramatically.

Everyone was rather shocked at Anne's behaviour, nobody more so than Anne herself.

"Why don't we have some tea?" suggested Diana tentatively.

"Diana, that's a wonderful idea...wait don't move your head, there's something on your cheek," said Lance softly as he brushed his fingers gently across her face, "...an eyelash, will you make a wish?" his voice, which sounded like warm honey dripped lusciously over a slab or rich, dark chocolate broke on the last syllable as if his future happiness depended on Diana's answer.

"I...I..." stuttered Diana...

"I wish... I wish..... I wish we could just have this _darn_ old wedding over and done with." Diana suddenly exploded in an unladylike way. "It's really hard on my nerves. And I'm not even the one getting married. It's so streeeessssful!" she ended in a pitiful wail.

"Oh Diana, you've expressed my feelings exactly." Anne embraced the screaming, writhing Diana. "Kindred spirits always know how each other feel." she explained to Lance.

"You?" Di asked stupidly. "How? This is an awf'lly trying business, Anne Shirley. It's because I'm _not_ getting married today. When you sent my Fred away with a flea in his ear because he wasn't like our dark ideal...." Diana sobbed uncontrollably at the memory.

"Not like our dark ideal..." Anne murmured. "Oh, you express my thoughts exactly, oh, bosom friend of my heart." Anne's eyes shone with the marvel of their kindredness. She had a sudden revelation. "Why, thank you for the suggestion, sweet Diana! I'm not getting married today."

_"What?"_ Marilla and Gilbert asked at the same time.

"I can't marry you, Gil." Anne confessed.

"What?" Gilbert bellowed more loudly.

"Oh, Gil, there are so many things I've always dreamed of for the day I got married..."

"And I suppose I'm not one of them?" Gilbert was quiet and threatening, his face pale but dangerously angry.

"Look, Gil. I haven't even got a wedding dress." Anne protested. "Not anymore," she cast a baleful glance at the white heap that was Dora.

"Gil, all I've got is my old striped drugget. Can't you see that it's just hopelessly unromantic to be married in _that_?" Anne pleaded.

"Diana can lend you a dress." Gilbert was not persuaded.

"Diana? Gilbert," Anne said patiently and tragically, "I have red hair, and all her dresses are pink!"

"Anne, I have no intention of being jilted at the altar." Gilbert declared stubbornly. "If you won't marry me today, I will marry someone in a white dress."

"Me?" Dora squeaked hopefully at his feet.


	5. Marilla's Secret

It was Marilla's turn to be aghast. For this was her secret: she still loved John Blythe. But she could not have him, so it was her lifelong dream (disregarding the fact that she had only known Anne for one-sixth of her life) that Anne and Gilbert would marry. Anne, her adopted daughter, marrying the boy who should have been her son. It was destiny.

And now, that inconsistent little whelp of Anne Shirley was going to destroy this dream!

"Well, this is gratitude, Miss Anne Shirley!" Marilla fired. "Matthew and I took you and sacrificed our lives to raise you. You could at least marry... marry _John Blythe's son_" she added _sotto voce_ "...and put my heart at ease!"

"I'm sorry." Anne's eyes welled up with tears. Then she caught Lance's eye, Lance who was absorbed in making tea with Diana. Diana's cheeks flushed red as the rosebud tea pot. After all, Anne had always been jealous of Diana because she had the raven hair and dimples Anne always wanted.

"Marilla, I'm so truly sorry. But I am grateful. I loved Matthew dearly... and I'm going to marry _his_ son."

Diana, on hearing Anne's words, looked ready to have another nervous breakdown. Balderdash those solemn oaths of eternal friendship! Ten years ago, Anne had taken Gilbert from her... and now she was going to take Sir Lancelot too?

Gilbert let out an unmanly squawk of indignation and flounced out the door in a fit of apoplectic rage.

"Gilbert Blythe, don't you dare walk out on me. I am your FIANCE. I have RIGHTS…" Dora cried, flying out the door after Gilbert.

"Well now that we're alone," said Anne, completely disregarding Marilla, Davy and Diana, "why don't you tell me about you…?"

"Why don't we get some fresh air?" said the most handsomest specimen of mankind, looking directly into Marilla's eyes. Marilla could have sworn her heart missed a beat, but she later discovered it was just a bad case of indigestion.

"Yes, yes of course," she replied rather abruptly, wishing she was forty years younger and not so very related to her young nephew whose beautifulness was worth at least seventy thousand camels.

"Oh, a walk would be lovely!" said Diana wistfully.

"I am hoping it will inspire me," said Lance modestly, "I'm working on a poem, which I shall read to you once we reach that quaint little wood that I saw on my way here. It is a fantastic poem and I know that you will love it…for it is fantastic."

"A poet!" Anne and Diana swooned in unison, while Davy recoiled in manly horror.

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Chapter by Bets and rhoswen


	6. Lance Elot's History

The stunned Rachel who had been listening quietly suddenly came to her senses and acted to save her friend Marilla from the wiles of her new found nephew. She blustered into the kitchen waving her hands about.

" Now wait with that high falutin mumbo jumbo poetry young man, first, let us get properly acquainted. If Marilla would be in her proper senses she would ask for such particulars, but since she isnt, i believe it is my duty as her best friend to ask on her behalf."

"My mother Lady Catherine Elot and her husband, who until recently i thought to be my pater lived in Arthurville Manor in Surrey, England"

Diana grasped Anne's hands forgetting her enmity and whispered to her once again bosom friend " ooh that just the same as Camelot."

Lance continued with his story. "My parents loved hunting and often went to Africa to hunt lions , tigers and elephants; however, one year my pater, i forget, i mean Lord Elot, decided to go to hunt seals and polar bears in Canada. Unfortunetly he fell through into the water ice fishing. Mumsy was quite devasted, and Mathew Cuthbert, my actual papa, offered her solace."

"Why didn't Mathew do the proper thing and marry your mother" inquired Rachel.

"Mumsy was shy and hardly spoke, she never informed Mr. Cuthbert, in fact she never said a word to anybody, i only found out by reading her diary after her death."

" Well Marilla, i suppose Mathew confided in you, didn't he?" inquired Rachel.

" A few years ago, I came across some letters Mathew wrote to somebody called Catherine, but never mailed. I have suspected some such thing but thought it best left alone." admitted Marilla.

"Well isn't that just like Mathew to keep quite, both of them are a pair of ninnies, writing about it and not saying a word." commented Rachel.

"Don't disparage my Mumsy" shouted Lance.

"Wasn't that a divinely romantic story" said Anne to Diana.

Davy rolled his eyes and made gaging sounds.

Gilbert who had been listening quietly through the kitchen window snorted.

And Marilla wondered just where would she put up Lance, maybe he could sleep in Anne's room if she vacated it by marrying Gilbert. It would be nice to have a handsome adopted son. Would he like Green Gables?


	7. The Problems

Having thoroughly questioned Lance and having been thoroughly converted into a Lance fan herself, Rachel was immensely pleased. She decided that he must come and see the huge cake she had been mixing together in the world's biggest bowl. Rachel was puffed up with pride over her scrumptious cake. Suddenly and most unexpectedly, Marilla hip chucked her into the batter and threw herself at Lance.

"Don't worry, Marilla. I fell for you the moment I saw you," said Lance, catching her with ease. As well as having the looks of Adonis, a body Michelangelo would have dragged a seven toned block of marble half way across Italy for in the hopes carving his likeness purely based on the rumour that such a fine specimen of male perfection existed, and teeth Apollonia would have martyred herself TWICE to save, he also had the strength of Goliath. Marilla, who by this stage was starting to pick up on the creepy incestuous overtones, let go of Lance's arm and fled to the other side of the table.

"I appreciate your help, Mr. Elot," said Marilla firmly, "but perhaps it is time you took Anne and Diana for that walk you were talking so much about."

"Smashing idea, Marilla! Girls? Into the woods!" and off he marched, his book of poetry clutched dearly to his heart.

"That man," said Rachel Lynde, attempting to clean cake batter out of her ears, "could flirt a corpse back to life."

Marilla blushed at Rachel's comment. How could she, sensible Marilla Cuthbert, lose control of herself like that? Even her romance with John Blythe had never thrown her into such a tempest of passions. Suddenly Marilla was overwhelmed by waves of guilt and betrayal to her memories of John Blythe.

Marilla felt desperate to do something.... anything... to redeem herself. Throw herself headlong into the log bridge or sell someone else's jersey cow or ANYTHING dramatic and outrageous to erase the horrible reputation of being taken in by her nephew! Her nephew, for goodness's sake! That man could flirt a corpse back to life... Rachel's words rang in her ears.

"Why, that's bloody brilliant, Rachel Lynde!" Marilla exclaimed.

"Mriaow?" Rachel mumbled, busily licking cake batter off her fingers and elbows like a cat washing its fur.

"Rachel, all we have to do is bring Lance to his father's grave! If Matthew could come back to life, we would get an explanation to this scandal for once and for all. Nothing could be more natural in the world than for a son to pay his respects to his deceased father."

Rachel's senses were so occupied with the presence of cake she barely acknowledged what Marilla was saying. She was going to take young Lance down to see Mathew's grave? Perfectly natural thing to do under the circumstances!

"Well! What are you waiting for?" snapped Marilla, snatching the wooden-spoon-of-cakey-glory out of poor Rachel's hand, "No wonder your bosom has reached the button popping stage! There was a half cows worth of dairy in that cake, and you just ate the whole thing!"

Davy, who didn't wish to have a lifetime of therapy before him, escaped the room before any more talk of Rachel Lynde's bosom ensued.

Marilla and Rachel were walking towards the wood when they came upon the unhappy discovery that nobody had actually told Lance that his father was dead.

"What will we tell him?" panicked Rachel, the cake having been taken away from her she was back to her normal self, "he's travelled half way around the world to see Mathew not Mathew's tomb stone!"

"I have no idea...maybe the General Store has a greeting card that deals with this kind of situation?!" suggested Marilla desperately.

"Such as what?" spluttered Rachel, "_Welcome to the Avonlea! Your father's dead; will you stay for tea?_"

It was on that speculative note that they entered the clearing where Diana and Anne had perched themselves on various logs getting ready for Lance's poetry reading.

"Now, I want you to give me your honest opinion," said Lance gravely, staring deep into the eyes of his female audience (all except Marilla who had nearly dislocated her neck in an attempt not to catch his eye).

"Definitely." sighed Anne.

"Positively." agreed Diana. So it was with their promises of truth and honour, Lance leapt into his reading.

_"Molly Jolly Wombles,_

_Seeking through the night._

_Do we each get what we deserve_

_From the fruit bowl of life?_

_You say apple! They say banana!_

_But aye, the apple is always right..."_

He then collapsed at their feet for dramatic measure.

"Oh." said Diana.

"Lance," Marilla called out, breaking the stunned silence that was the aftermath of Lance's performance. "I have something to tell you..."


	8. The Revelation

Marilla had barely finished informing her nephew when Lance fell down onto his knees beside Mathew's grave, bowed his head, and spoke in a solemn voice

"I now know now just what I must do, dear papa, now that I have lost you too. Alas, oh woe to me left all alone in this cruel, unkind world. I am going to dedicate myself to my art and enter a monastery."

"Oh you must not think that!" she said crisply, trying to repress her emotions. "There is plenty of room in Green Gables. It is big enough, my dear boy"

"Oh, you poor dear. Let me smooth your brow for you." Anne dropped impulsively beside him.

"AAH!!" screamed Gilbert from the window, flailing about in distress. Anne felt this was just another one of Gilbert's attention seeking tactics so she continued to ignore him. Diana, on the other hand, rushed to the window.

"Gilbert! Oh, Gilbert! Are you dead?" she cried. Dora would have cried the EXACT same thing, but unfortunately she had collapsed again.

"My retinas are burnt!" Gilbert wibbled, shielding his eyes. "I looked directly at his teeth...it was like an eclipse!"

Lance closed his mouth rather quickly with a guilty expression secretly knowing that the new Colgate toothpaste he had switched to that week had said on the label that consumers should be aware that if used upon the teeth of overly handsome men they would temporarily blind the fiances of attractive women. Once Gilbert got up blinking in an odd way, Lance thought to himself in an evil way, "Dang, there's no permanent damage. I'll have to up the dosage for the future. HEHEHEHE!"

"Get up, Gilbert Blythe." Marilla Cuthbert poked his back rib with the infamous wooden spoon, bent on saving the boy she had always pretended to be her own son from the wiles of her brother's illegimate child. "You're only having a bad case of indigestion."

"Indigestion.... ohhhhh...." Gilbert groaned, hugging his belly. "What a tragedy! I won't even be able to have a slice of my wedding cake. Anne- Dora -- I'm in the depths of disappointment."

"Well, hop out of it," Rachel suggested. "I already ate the whole dang cake. You can't have a piece even if your appetite is bigger than Gargantua's."

Marilla, in the meantime, was trying to redirect Lance's focus away from swooning Gilbert and onto deceased Matthew. She began singing Matthew's praises.

"He was the kindest man on earth... the jersey cows worshipped him."

"Sweet creatures!" Lance agreed fervently. "Happy is he who should lord over such saintly animals."

"He was the quietest man on earth, too... no one could be so eloquent in silence." Marilla went on, thinking to herself - that doesn't count as a falsehood, does it? I honestly don't know of anyone who was eloquent in his silence, Mathew included.

"Silence... is golden." Lance agreed with greater fervour. "Golden and silver and every colour of the rainbow, in fact." he added poetically.

"Such a sympathetic listener," Marilla continued. "You could tell him anything, and he would agree completely with you."

"Ahhh..... right, right," Lance nodded as he took it in slowly.

"And... what a smoker. He could smoke five pipes on the verandah if he was really stressed."

"Smoking is so very manly," Lance commented.

"He died of a heart disease... his heart was always weak." Marilla was running out of ideas.

"A weak heart.... dear Aunt Marilla, I shall make his heart strong." Lance promised, clasping her hands in his.

Marilla let out a sigh of relief. She was beginning to get stiff-neck from avoiding eye contact. Davy, on the other hand, was hiding his wounded ego with ill placed humour. He scowled harder, and wondered if he should take up smoking, turn mute, or start a new religion as the God of Jersey Cows.


	9. The Wedding

Guests were starting to appear at the Avonlea church. Mrs. Harmon Andrews and Josie Pye were especially anxious for the ceremony.

"Good heavens, is that Anne Shirley?" cried one of the ladies from outside the church.

"Gracious!" cried another, "her face is as red as her hair!"

There was a collective gasp of appreciation as Lance entered the scene, it was if he ran in slow motion. The sun broke through a gap in the clouds and shone on him like he was a gift from the heavens..."His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;" cried Anne, he stopped and turned, glancing at the ladies of the church, "From underneath his helmet flowed, his coal-black curls..." a lock of hair fell across his face, carelessly his flicked it away with the back of his hand..."As he rode down to Camelot..."

Lance Elot had arrived.

"I think I'm in love..." said young Betty Clemons.

"I'm extremely manly too!" Davy scowled, "I smoke five times an hour, sometimes I don't speak for days AND Jersey Cows love me." For some reason Betty did not look impressed. "Did I mention," whispered Davy darkly, "that when I'm alone with the cows...they call me their leader..."

"Oh, dear." said Betty, who quickly went to find her mother.

---

And so it was that Anne found herself standing at the altar - she suddenly could not recall how or why or when. She felt a shiver of stage fright! A thousand faces were staring at her - from Mrs. Harmon Andrews' piercing grey stare to Josie Pye's malicious laughing smirk. Mrs. Harmon Andrews sleek and well-dressed in a grey silk and flowered bonnet, Mrs. HB Donnell over-dressed beside her in oversized pearls and poofy lace. Josie, Jane, and Ruby - the girls of their old "quintet" like summer flowers in pale blue, pale lavendar, and pale yellow for Josie. Anne thought she looked like a chicken. A chubby, fluffy, dumpy yellow ball. "I wouldn't smirk so at me, if I had her nose and figure." Anne consoled herself. "What is she laughing at me for, anyways?"

"Or are they looking at me, Marilla?" she asked of the woman in the first row with a permanently craned head.

For, standing beside her, to her left, was - the glory and the dream - the sun, the moon, and the stars. Sir Lancelot of fair hair and dark eyes and heart-thumping physique. Anne could in a wild impulsive moment thrust herself into his arms, and never give a hoot about what Josie Pye thought!

Anne looked at Josie Pye again and followed her gaze. To her right -- Anne's right, not Josie -- was standing beside her a bandy-headed, puffy-red-eyed, dusty Gilbert Blythe!

"Anne Shirley." Rev. Allan sounded puzzled. "Who do you take to be your lawful wedded husband?"

Anne dared not meet any of their eyes. So, she looked down at her feet.

And there she saw a sight that she never forgot to her dying day. She was so aghast with embarassment that her face grew even redder than her hair.

She was wearing her bedroom slippers!


End file.
